


Liquid Habit

by hornybraincell



Series: Kinktober 2019: Max's Collection [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Begging, Blood, Come Inflation, Crying, Kinktober 2019, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hornybraincell/pseuds/hornybraincell
Summary: Better not get caught in the forest alone, boy. Daemons abound.





	Liquid Habit

**Author's Note:**

> *handwaves* daemons can have tentacles now because it's useful to my kinktober fics.
> 
> Welcome to Max's mini-kinktober! I definitely can't commit to 31 days, so I've chosen 12 days worth of prompts (sometimes doubling up, etc.) for the month.
> 
> I used the prompts **tentacles** and **distension** for this little fic!
> 
> Not edited, written fast and posted asap because kinktober is about having fun - hope y'all enjoy!

He was pinned to the ground before he even had a moment to think, a weight across his back that was heavy and solid, and distinctly not  _ human. _ Whatever it was felt cold through his thin t-shirt, wet but not quite, like dewdrops across grass in the morning chill.

He writhed beneath it, the weight oppressive and crossing over his shoulder blades in a way that forced him to wriggle on the ground like an infantry hopeful. The grass and dirt was rough beneath his chest, his and a pebble flicked his nipple in a way that caused him to yelp in pain.

The thing behind him – daemon, he was sure – growled, low and throaty and distinctly  _ wet; _ Noctis could picture a wide mouth full of too many jagged teeth, spittle and slim caught between them when it opened wide. Another weight crossed down his lower back, making it impossible for him to even wriggle.

He opened his mouth to scream – to call for help, Ignis,  _ anyone, _ but before he could even manage, something was stuffed in his mouth, forcing his jaw open past a point that was comfortable, a stabbing pain in the hinge the same way his nipples had not stopped aching. The thing was wet-not-wet like the weight on his back, round and thick and  _ writhing. _ Tapered at the end, and sucking at his tongue and lips as if – as if it were a  _ tentacle. _

He struggled around the gag – he refused to think about what it really was – cries coming out in muffled  _ mmfs _ and breathy  _ ahs. _ His jaw was forced open so wide that tears began to form between his eyes, running down the crevice beside his nose until he could taste his own salt.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the tentacle in his mouth began to move, forcing itself down his throat and he felt a lurch in his stomach like he was going to vomit; he felt the bile move up his esophagus and coat the back of his throat in acid, but he forced it back down with all his might. He had never done this before –  _ anything _ like this before, no matter how many times he had jerked himself off to the thought of being fucked by Ignis, or Prompto, or Gladio, or  _ Cor, _ for fucks sake; he remained a virgin, pure and offered as a diplomatic treaty.

Tentacles wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles then, not out of necessity as he was quite immobile by the tentacles laid across his back, but solely to pin him down more firmly and to add to the number of sensations he was already feeling.

His pants were ripped apart with what he was sure was a claw; it trailed from the middle of his spine down through his ass, and a wet liquid that settled on his cheeks felt like it surely must be blood. His breathing was heavy and tears continued to fall as he was forced to take the tentacle deeper down his throat, chest still rubbing against the forest floor, and he ignored the way that the debris on the ground pressed into what was certainly his hardening cock.

His ass cheeks were pushed apart by what was surely another tentacle, and his soon as he had the thought to turn around and see the daemon that had him, one was laid over his neck. Distantly, he felt the way that his body was shaking. He had known what was going to happen the moment that he was forced down, but had put it out of his mind: he had never had sex, and the thought of doing it like this was terrifying beyond comprehension. And  _ no one was coming for him. _ Why was no one coming for him? Surely he had been gone long enough for them to worry.

A tentacle snaked its way to his asshole, sharp tip textured like a cat’s tongue, and it prodded experimentally at him.

_ Please, _ he tried to shout, but it was indecipherable through the giant cock in his mouth.  _ Please, I don’t want to! _

He writhed again, making another futile attempt to get free before it happened, but it was useless. All he could manage was to vaguely rock his hips, and all that succeeded in doing was forcing blood to the tip of his dick.

_ I don’t want this, I don’t want this, _ he thought desperately, hearing the way that his voice would come out in a broken moan if he could speak.  _ Please, I’m a good person, I’ve been good, why,  _ ** _why!?_ **

But no voices, no gods, no ancestors appeared to answer him.

All that happened was that two limbs reached themselves between his ass – to spread him apart, and allow the third one – the cat-like one – to dive into him.

He  _ screamed _ around his gag, a scream that coursed through him from the depths of his bellow, through his lungs and up his throat like something with a sharp edge was being pulled  _ through  _ him, the pain was so intense. He was completely dry, and the dewy outsides of the tentacles provided nothing by way of lubrication; he felt blood running down his legs to where it would congeal behind his balls.

In and out, the tentacle moved, with a rhythm that didn’t let up, the pain rising instead of lessening with repetition.

_ Why are you doing this? _ He asked around his gag.  _ Please let me go, I’ll do anything you want! _ He pleased desperately.

_ Ignis!  _ He called.  _ Gladio, Prompto! _ But no one was coming.

He tried to move again, rocking his hips like he was enjoying this, like he was a virgin learning to become a whore.

_ I swear I don’t want this! _ He insisted, to any Astral that would listen. But he knew there was no use; he was hard and his balls were heavy, and more tears flowed as the pain in his ass compounded, tore through him like a brand set to skin.

Tentacles looped under his hips, then, picking them up like he was nothing but a puppet on a string, forcing his ass higher into the air like somebody’s fucked-up plaything. He whimpered again, his small moans the only sounds in the silent forest.

He couldn’t figure out the need for the change in position, other than to feel blood trickle down his legs, but soon got his answer when he felt the tentacle spill into him, hot cum filling his hole and surely spilling out around it. His muscles quivered underneath him, knees digging into the dirt.

Did it always feel like this when someone comes inside of you? Hot and cold at the same time, tingling in a way that surely wasn’t right? He had no way of knowing, and all he could do was moan and cry and rock his hips as he was filled with a substance that made him feel like there was a  _ fire  _ burning under his stomach. He’s such a bad person,  _ he’s such a bad person, _ how could he move like this and feel like this and  _ still be hard like this _ while he was  _ raped? _

The tentacle in his mouth spilled not a moment afterward, finally pulling back a bit to allow room for the cum to sit, to spill out around it and dribble down Noctis’ chin where it mixed with his tears.

“I don’t wa –” he was finally able to make out, gasping for breath, unable to speak through his sobs, his ass still being violated as he was moved back and forth with the force of it. “Please let me go! I’ll be good, I sw –”

The daemon simply growled, moving its tentacle in and  _ out and in and out _ and spilling again, filling Noctis up again and again and again and  _ again _ until his hips rutted forward and he felt his own cock release, the orgasm coursing through him like a thousand silver shavings dragged through his skin, unable to separate the pleasure from the pain.

“I don’t like – I didn’t –” he gasped, still on the ending throes of orgasm, asshole clenching around the tentacle that was very much still releasing its – cum, or whatever gooey, congealing substance was running down Noctis’ thighs and chin like he was a very messy child.

His stomach was beginning to show it now, slowly curving with the  _ fullness _ of it, as if he were carrying the scourged child of this daemon, as if it had laid its  _ eggs  _ in him, and wasn’t that a terrifying, disgusting thought?

He hated the way his cock perked back up at it, and sobbed harder and harder the more his stomach expanded, sure that the cum had nowhere else to go; till it would be forced back up through his intestines and out through his mouth.

And as if the daemon had heard his thoughts – it released once more with a guttural growl – and dropped Noctis all at once, so quickly that he missed the firm presence of weight around his wrists, around his ankles and across his back. His hole felt empty and his mouth felt dry, but he moved a hand to his stomach as he crumpled on the ground and curled up around it.

He didn’t bother to turn his neck to catch a glimpse of the creature that was slinking away, sure it had gotten what it had wanted.

_ Why me? _ He thought – or maybe asked, it was all a blur, both in his head and through his tears.

The liquids on drying on his body felt sticky and cold and wrong – scourge cum, and sweat, and blood, and tears – and his own cum, drying on the bottom of his belly.

And maybe the answer laid there, in his orgasm, in his sick, wrong orgasm. The entire time – as he laid there, and was ripped apart and used and shattered – he had never even bothered to summon a weapon.

**Author's Note:**

> 👍👍


End file.
